Meet the Maker
by Shaitanah
Summary: Sometimes if you want something to happen, all you have to do is ask. Sasuke meets the ultimate force. Don’t be fooled: it is a tragic story of a man who is not in control of his life. Vaguely implied SasuNaru Please R&R!


**Title**: "Meet the Maker"

**Author**: Shaitanah

**Rating**: G

**Summary**: Sometimes if you want something to happen, all you have to do is ask. Sasuke meets the ultimate force. Don't be fooled: it is a tragic story of a man who is not in control of his life. Vaguely implied SasuNaru Please R&R!

**Disclaimer**: _Naruto _belongs to Kishimoto Masashi. Kishimoto Masashi obviously also belongs to Kishimoto Masashi. Come to think of it, my brain probably belongs to him now as well. Don't know about Kishimoto Seishi, but I wouldn't be surprised if he belonged to Masashi, too. Lyrics from _What I've Done _by Linkin Park.

**A/N**: This is a very weird, a bit emo semi-RPF crackfic. It is dedicated to industrialgirl1 who not only said the phrase that made me write it: "Kishi loves SasuNaru almost as much as he loves SasuKishi," but also wrote this remarkable piece of brain freeze. And the most awesome artsatalex did an amazing fanart of SasuKishi. Spread the insanity!

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**MEET THE MAKER**

…_I clean this slate with the hands of uncertainty…_

There is a sweet, clogging scent of grass in the air. Fog hangs over the meadow like a thick curtain. Sasuke shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath. He doesn't know how long he's been here – only that since he came, the sky has become a few shades darker and the temperature (he feels it vaguely, as if in some daze) has dropped a few degrees.

Weariness engulfs him. He remembers this meadow: this is where he came alive after his 'one death' on the way to the Hidden Sound Village. Somewhere beyond the forest Konoha's new walls tower, oppressive, unfamiliar, yet inexplicably warm.

He doesn't want to go back. There is nothing for him there. Yet every night he lurks by these walls, watching the scorch marks made by explosive seals disappear little by little and the holes being patched up. It is hard to rest after all the battles. His body aches desperately as though the tension hasn't quite seeped out yet.

Sasuke sighs, throws the tattered Akatsuki cloak off and gets up. He brushes the pieces of grass off his clothes, places the Kusanagi back in its sheath and begins his final journey.

There is still some unfinished business to deal with.

He finds the place relatively quickly. The lights are out except for one flickering beam in the window Sasuke is looking for. He springs up to the window-sill noiselessly and probes the glass. It gives in easily. Sasuke creeps inside the room.

Sparse rays of light lie sidelong across the floor. A voice comes from the next room through the half-opened door. Sasuke judges it's a conversation, but neither can he hear the replies of the other person, nor does he care much for its contents.

He casts a skimming glance across the room, taking in a pile of papers scattered upon the table in a far too artistic way to be called nonchalant. These are drawings, rough sketches done in pencil and a few more completed copies. Sasuke knows little about art, but just enough to suppose that perhaps the owner of the place possesses the same artistic jutsu as Sai.

There is a picture that captures his attention instantaneously. It is fully coloured, pasted on the Photoshop clipboard: him and Naruto standing back to back with long forgotten peace upon their faces.

For a moment Sasuke forgets why he is here.

The light in the other room goes out. The receiver is replaced and silence falls swiftly and through it, the footsteps come like the sound of hammers. Sasuke stands perfectly still.

The man halts on the threshold, looking genuinely puzzled. Then his expression melts into that of some awkward awareness, and he murmurs:

"You? How did you–?"

"You thought I'd let you get away so easily," Sasuke says flatly.

The man blinks his eyes in bewilderment. He is of average height, his hair is dark and his face is pleasant, roundish, the kind of which you wouldn't just lose in the crowd. But the way his eyes gleam when he looks at Sasuke is a bit alarming.

"You're not supposed to be here," he says quietly, as if uncertain of the relevance of this statement.

Sasuke walks round him, checking for weapons. There are none. The man holds a pencil in his hand but if he ever decides to use it it will be the end of him.

He follows Sasuke with a baffled look. Clearly, he doesn't know what to make of this encounter.

"When Madara told me the truth about my brother, I was devastated," Sasuke said, drawing his katana. "It was beyond me. I thought I knew my lying, murderous traitor of a brother so well. But I was wrong. He came out practically a saint! I had no choice but to turn to Madara to seek vengeance upon those truly responsible for the fall of my clan. But not before long I figured: Madara wasn't the mastermind behind all this either. It's a plot far greater than I have imagined."

The man blinks again, then smiles self-consciously. Either he feels flattered, or he simply doesn't understand the reason behind this conversation. He reminds Sasuke of Tobi, and it only makes him more decisive. He knows full well what could be hiding behind the mask of childish innocence.

"And what would you want from me?" the man prods cautiously.

Sasuke reaches out to feel his chakra. It is powerful, yet somehow he conceals its real power.

"I want to know how this ends."

"You and half the world," the man snickers.

He moves towards the table. Sasuke raises the katana in warning and notes with vague curiosity that his opponent is not afraid of him in the least. Nervous, yes. Anxious, maybe. But not afraid.

The man holds his hand up amiably. He represents no threat to Sasuke. Uchiha even feels mildly insulted that he could assume otherwise.

"You will tell me," Sasuke says gravely.

"Spoilers," the man exhales, shaken. "He wants spoilers. You've gotta be kidding me!" He flings his arms up all of a sudden and laughs tiredly. "I, uh… I need to sit down. Sorry, I had a rough day. You want something? I got some cold rice with tomatoes. You still like that, don't you? There's also cup ramen, but that's not your thing. Geez, I still can't believe it!"

Sasuke glances at him suspiciously. The sudden change in the man's behaviour alarms him. He puts the Kusanagi up and towers over his opponent who sits in the arm-chair, scrutinizing him like he is a three-headed hydra.

"You seem to know quite a few things about me," Sasuke states. "Then I made the right call."

"A few things? Yes, oh, yes! I even know some things that nobody else does. Like what colour that toy dinosaur you had when you were a kid was."

Sasuke knits his eyebrows. It is hard to tell if the man is joking or not. He winks at Sasuke.

"You'd be surprised if you knew how much dispute that bit of information has caused."

He is very strange for a shinobi. In fact, Sasuke begins to doubt whether he is a shinobi at all. But then again, sometimes being a ninja means being somewhat _unconventional_.

He glances briefly at the table where the pictures are piled. Sasuke follows his gaze, and his frown grows deeper. Now that he looks more closely, it seems the sketches are manga drafts. Roughly done shapes, sometimes hardly more than stick figures, complete with empty speech bubbles.

"They're, uh…" the artist mumbles, "That's not the grand finale yet. We still have a couple of volumes to go."

"Tell me how it ends," Sasuke repeats.

His eyes flare crimson. It's more a habit than an actual threat; there is a gnawing certainty within him that the Sharingan would do the strange shinobi no harm.

"Why would you believe me?"

"Your word is true," Sasuke deadpans. The kind of uncanny faith he has in these words astounds him.

The man very nearly rolls his eyes.

"What if I tell you I don't know?"

"You'd be lying. You are–."

"Yeah, the mastermind, I know." He slumps his shoulders in a way that is slightly reminiscent of a sulking Naruto. It's disturbing, yet soothingly familiar at the same time.

"I don't want to be alone anymore," Sasuke admits reluctantly, looking away. "Nor do I want to manipulated and used. I don't know if what I did I did on my own or because Itachi wanted me to. Or Madara." He narrows his eyes. "Or you. You think you're hallucinating me. Why?"

"I don't–. Okay, what else should I be thinking? You think someone like you can just come barging into my place and ask me for the spoilers?"

Sasuke resorts to the last weapon. "Would you tell Naruto?"

There is a logo at the bottom of the Photoshopped picture, a splash of orange over Latin letters, and it reads:

NARUTO

And a smaller one, in katakana beneath it. A sudden revelation hits Sasuke. The artist is mystified.

"It is a cover page," Sasuke whispers.

The man stands up and pokes Sasuke on the shoulder, looking like a mad scientist. Another sharp poke – in the ribs this time. When he reaches to touch his forehead, Sasuke grasps his wrist and stops him.

It's not just a cover, he realizes. It's the _last_ cover. _That_ is the grand finale.

"You don't want to be lonely, is that it?" the artist specifies.

"Naruto." The name escapes Sasuke's lips like a sigh when he least expects it. It seems the frightening orange logo is getting bigger.

The man smiles. "Naruto. You want to be with Naruto. Now, Sasuke-kun, that's the news we all wanted to hear!"

He wriggles his hand out of Sasuke's grip and stumbles towards the computer. Such glee is written across his face that Sasuke has to suppress the sudden urge to run. He can't take his eyes off the _last cover_ as it disappears, replaced by a loading Internet page. Its contents seems dubious to Sasuke. He arches his eyebrows and flashes the artist an apprehensive look.

"I'll do what's in my power," the man shrugs. "But you know, that's not much, teen rating and all. Them, on the other hand… Go harass them."

"Someone more powerful than you? Who?"

The artist very nearly whistles. "Ah, they're legion in numbers!" His voice drops to conspiratorial whisper. "I sometimes steal ideas from them."

Sasuke memorizes the address and searches the artist's face in case there are any more things he should know. There probably are none. He takes his leave as silently as he arrived.

The artist lowers his head. Either he has just got rid of a hallucination which should be a good thing, or he's lost one chance out of infinity. As the shrill sound of the phone ringing disrupts his train of thought, he mutters: "I'd keep you if I could," and picks up the receiver.

"Seishi," he says once he's gotten through the greeting ceremonies. "Have you ever had one of your characters come to your place and, you know, talk to you?"

There is a pause, and then his brother remarks quizzically:

"I think you've been overdoing yourself with that _Naruto_ finale, nii-san. Get some sleep, then proceed with that crazy shounen-ai of yours."

"It's a ninja manga," the elder brother replies sternly. "_General_."

He can almost see the other's face contort with a funny grimace.

"Yeah, right. Tell that to your characters."

_July 5–20, 2008_


End file.
